Abandon the Dark

by Marta Perry

  “Your aunt is fortunate to have such a dedicated great-niece,” Jeannette said.

  Was that a sarcastic remark? Lainey couldn’t be sure, and she’d certainly spent enough time being social with the woman.

  “I must be on my way. Again, I’m sorry I interrupted Thomas at his work.” She turned, going quickly back across the street, feeling as if Jeannette was staring at her all the way. But when she reached her own door and glanced back, Jeannette was nowhere to be seen. Overactive imagination, she diagnosed, and pulled a handful of envelopes from the mailbox.

  Heading into the house, she shuffled through them. Several were probably get-well cards, judging by the shape of the envelopes. Lainey set those aside to take to the hospital. The next one—she stopped, staring.

  It was addressed to her. At this address. And the postmark was St. Louis. She stared for a long moment at the block printing, her stomach twisting. Nobody she knew would address an envelope to her this way, even if they’d known where she was.

  Lainey resisted an impulse to throw it in the trash unread. That would be cowardly. Better to face it, no matter how ugly. She ripped it open.

  I know where you are. You can’t hide from what you’ve done.

  It ended with a string of obscenities that made her stomach twist even tighter. She crunched the paper in her hand and walked quickly into the kitchen. A moment in the gas flame of the stove would reduce it to ashes.

  One step into the kitchen, a plaintive meow distracted her. Apparently for once Cat’s appearing act hadn’t worked—he was outside the back door, demanding entrance.

  The familiar sound dissolved the tension induced by the anonymous letter. Smiling a little, she dropped it on the counter and headed for the door.

  She swung it open, and the smile died on her face. The cat sat there, looking at her with a wide, unblinking green stare. But between them, propped across the doorway, was another broom.

  * * *

  LAINEY FINISHED THE last of the supper dishes. She turned toward the living room and then, reluctantly went to the closet door and opened it. The three brooms stood there, mute and unnerving. She shut the door on them, making a determined effort to shut them out of her mind at the same time.

  In the first moment of discovery, she’d made a mistake. She’d called Jake. Luckily, his phone went straight to voice mail, and by then she’d reconsidered.

  She could tell him about the appearing and vanishing cat, and the repeated business with the brooms, but she certainly wasn’t going to reveal the anonymous letter with its trail that led directly to what had happened in St. Louis. And that, after all, was why this whole situation had her so rattled.

  Really—brooms? It was laughable, wasn’t it? But she didn’t seem able to find the funny side.

  At least she hadn’t blurted everything out to Jake. She’d had sense enough to leave a noncommittal message, just saying she had a question and would call him tomorrow. By then, she’d think of something to say.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, she wandered into the living room. If Aunt Rebecca owned a television set, she could turn it on and watch something mindless. All this Amish simplicity gave a person too much time to think. Maybe she ought to start the project that had been in the back of her mind since she’d helped her cousin Katie with the quilt. She could start one of her own.

  Katie had said that Aunt Rebecca’s extra fabric was in a chest in the back room. Lainey went upstairs, locating the piece of furniture without difficulty. She lifted the lid to find that it was filled to the brim with fabric.

  Lainey ran her hand over a rainbow of colors, remembering that day in the quilt shop with Aunt Rebecca. This was a treasure trove of material. She squirreled through the trunk, an image forming in her mind—a simple pattern, of course, but made in a variety of jewel tones. The deep, saturated colors were typical of Amish quilts, she knew.

  It wasn’t long before she had an armload of material. Half laughing at her own enthusiasm, she carried them downstairs to the dining room table. Aunt Rebecca had always laid her sewing out on the long table to cut things out. Time slipped away as she tried out one color against another, looking for the perfect combination. The process—touching, comparing, fitting pieces together, seemed to satisfy some need in her.

  The cat, sitting on the braided rug, let out a loud meow. Then, abruptly, his head swiveled toward the front of the house. He stared unblinkingly at the window. Lainey’s hand seemed to freeze on the scissors she held.

  A second later Lainey heard it—a footstep on the porch. Thank goodness she’d drawn the shades. At least she wasn’t lit up like an actor on a stage. If something hit the window...

  A knock sounded. She hesitated for a moment and then walked quickly to the door. Drawing back the curtain gave her a view of Jake’s face, looking mildly impatient. She swung the door open.

  “I didn’t expect you to come by. I intended to call you tomorrow.” Feeling a little foolish at her caution made her brusquer than she should have been.

  “No problem. I checked messages after leaving an extremely dull meeting in Williamsport and figured I might as well stop by.” His eyebrows lifted. “May I come in?”

  “Yes, of course.” Regaining her poise, she stepped back, gesturing him into the living room.

  Jake looked at her, a question in his face. “You wanted to ask me something?”

  “Tell you, I guess.” She realized she was fiddling with a strand of hair and pushed it back. What to tell him? And how much?

  Jake grinned. “I’m trustworthy. Honest. Just spill it, whatever it is.”

  “Right.” She took a breath. “This is going to sound stupid, but...” She stopped. Shook her head. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  She led the way quickly into the kitchen, with Jake on her heels, and swung open the closet door. With a gesture, she indicated the brooms.

  He stood staring for a moment. “Three brooms seems a little excessive, but I don’t quite see—”

  “I found the first one propped across the back door when I got home the other day. I assumed Rachel’s brother had left it there after he finished fixing the broken window. But later, I discovered the second one across the front door, like...like some kind of a warning. And tonight when I went to let the cat in, there was another one across the back door. If this is some kind of local joke—well, I told you it was silly.” She glared at him, feeling on the defensive.

  Jake lifted his hands, palms up. “Hey, I didn’t say anything about it being silly. As for a local joke...” The words trailed off as something seemed to strike him.

  “Well, is it?”

  “Wait a sec. Do you have a flashlight?” He was frowning now.

  Lainey nodded, fetching one of the torches from the kitchen drawer. “Must you be so mysterious?”

  “Just give me a minute.” He opened the back door and stepped out onto the porch. “So you found two of them here? Only one at the front?”

  She nodded. “What difference does that make?” She stepped outside, shivering a little when the cool air hit her.

  Jake was shining the light on the porch floor as if looking for something, and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer.

  “The broken window was in the back, as well. Easier for someone to escape being seen here.” He followed the circle of light to the steps and then stopped, seeming to focus on the top step. “Take a look at this.”

  “What?” Lainey moved next to him, peering down at the wooden step. “It looks as if something is marked on it.” Her stomach lurched when she thought of the anonymous letter.

  “It’s a cross,” Jake said. “Chalked on the step.”

  He turned so quickly they nearly collided. “I’ll bet—” He shone the light along the floor in front of the door, shook his head, and shifted it to the window. Reaching out, he touched something white and granular along the outside frame.

  “What is it?” Lainey could hear the tension in her voice, and she wrapped her arms
around herself protectively.

  Jake touched his fingertip to his lips and tasted.

  “You shouldn’t—” she began, but he shook his head.

  “Salt,” he said, turning to look at her, his face quizzical in the dim light. “You didn’t put it there?”

  “Of course not,” she snapped. “Don’t be ridiculous. What does it mean?”

  Jake took her arm, steering her into the house and shutting the door.

  “Jake,” she said, warning in her voice. “Unless you want me to start throwing things, you’d better answer. What does it mean?”

  Jake frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t get it,” he said. “But I know what it means. It means someone thinks you’re a witch.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  JAKE COULD SEE by the expression on Lainey’s face that she hadn’t the faintest idea what he was talking about. For that matter, he wasn’t sure whether to treat the situation as a prank or something more serious.

  “If this is your idea of a joke, I don’t think it’s very funny.” Lainey, hands planted on her hips, looked ready to take on the world.

  “Not a joke—or at least, I’m not joking.”

  He frowned, glancing toward the window. Now that he was looking for it, he had no trouble spotting the salt glistening on the outside sill in the soft glow of the overhead gaslight. The outside of the window...that suggested something to him, but he couldn’t seem to pull the idea out.

  “I suppose this might be someone’s notion of a Halloween prank, but it seems rather fanciful for that.”

  Lainey’s belligerent expression eased, and she shook her head. “I don’t get any of this. Start at the beginning. What makes you suppose anyone thinks such an absurd thing?”

  Jake gestured. “The salt on the windowsill, the broom across the door, the cross chalked on the step—those are all old Pennsylvania Dutch charms to keep out witches.”

  “Witches.” Her voice invested the word with a suggestion of the ridiculous. “Are you telling me the Amish believe in witches?”

  “No, of course not. And I said Pennsylvania Dutch, not Amish.”

  “Isn’t it the same thing?”

  “Pennsylvania Dutch refers to the culture of the German-speaking settlers of Pennsylvania. That included plenty of people besides the Amish.”

  She frowned, looking as if she were scrambling for something to grab onto. “So you’re saying that a lot of people around here might be familiar with this...this superstition. Not just the Amish.”

  Jake nodded, his mind busy with the implications. Should he treat it seriously or dismiss it? He’d rather err on the side of caution.

  “Odd little remnants of hexerei exist, strange as that sounds. You ought to hear my dad on the subject—that’s one of his interests in local history. Even wrote an article about it for the local historical society.”

  “Hexerei?” She repeated the word. “So you’re pretty well up on the subject, I take it.” A trace of suspicion showed in her voice.

  “I haven’t been sneaking around the back of your house with a saltshaker, if that’s what you mean. My point is that anyone might know, including teenagers out for a little Halloween mischief.”

  “Or the Amish,” she said again.

  “You’re thinking of Zeb, I suppose.” He considered. “The Amish are more likely to visit powwow doctors, but witchcraft...” He let that trail off, seeing her confusion. “You’ve never heard of a powwow doctor? You’d say an herbalist, I suppose. Someone who practices the old remedies for minor ailments. The Amish are more inclined to try a simple home remedy than rush off to the doctor every time someone sneezes.”

  “Are salt and broomsticks part of the traditional medical lore?” Her jaw firmed. “I still think it was probably Zeb. He’d like nothing better than to see me leave town and give him a clear field. As for anyone thinking me a witch...”

  The black cat chose that moment to twine itself around her feet. He couldn’t help grinning.

  “You have to admit that you look the part. Black cat and all.”

  Lainey bent and picked up the cat. It responded by nuzzling her neck, rubbing its head against the line of her jaw. Lucky cat.

  “So you think I look like a witch?” Lainey lifted her eyebrows, a faint smile teasing her lips.

  “A beautiful witch,” he said softly. He gave in to the impulse and ran his finger along an errant strand of her black hair, letting it brush her cheek.

  Her head tilted, eyes darkening. A step closed the distance between them. He cupped her face, feeling the skin warm beneath his hand, and his lips found hers. She tasted sweet and spicy at the same time. For an instant she seemed to hold back—an onlooker rather than a participant. Then she leaned into him, kissing him back—

  A sharp hiss was accompanied by the sting of claws penetrating his shirt. They broke apart, the cat baring its teeth at him.

  “Cat!” Lainey yanked the animal away from him. It sprang from her arms, sat down, and began washing itself furiously.

  “That’s quite a guard cat you have there.” Keep it light, he warned himself. That might have been the best thing that could have happened.

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into him. Did he tear your shirt?”

  He brushed at the snag, dismissing it. “No harm done. Actually, it’s reassuring to see that you’re not defenseless.”

  “I wouldn’t be defenseless even if I didn’t have the cat.” Her eyes narrowed, much as the cat’s had done. “My self-defense class was very thorough.”

  “I believe you,” he said quickly, suspecting her prickliness was due to the same cause as his own discomfort. Neither of them had expected the passion of that kiss. “But despite your prowess, maybe you ought to have the locks changed, just to be on the safe side.”

  Lainey frowned, turning to stare at the door. “I hate to make changes to Aunt Rebecca’s house when she can’t approve them. Anyway, the...well, vandalism, if you want to call it that, came from the outside.”

  “True. Actually, that was what seemed odd about the salt. I’d expect it to be on the inside.”

  “That proves it, doesn’t it? Whoever is badgering me, they can’t get in. And I refuse to believe I have to watch out for villagers carrying torches.”

  He smiled at the image. “No, I don’t think you need to worry about that. Still, I don’t want to ignore this business. Someone is showing a lot of ill will toward you, for whatever reason.”

  “Zeb, trying to chase me away,” she said promptly. “No one else could have any reason for trying to scare—” She stopped abruptly, seeming to turn inward to examine some possibility.

  “What? Did you think of someone else who might want to make your life uncomfortable?”

  “Certainly not.” She said it sharply, but she didn’t look at him, planting a small sliver of doubt in his mind.

  Maybe best to let it go for the moment. “If you don’t mind, I’ll ask my dad about anyone practicing hexerei in the area. That might lead to some answers. In the meantime, I think you ought to be sure the dead bolts are fastened whenever you’re in the house alone.”

  “Dead bolts?” Her eyebrows lifted. “The front and back doors have old-fashioned slide bolts, that’s it. But yes, it makes sense to lock up when I’m here alone.” She glanced toward the door, and he suspected that was his cue to leave.

  “You’re sure you wouldn’t rather stay elsewhere? I’ll bet Rachel would be glad to find a room for you, and you’d be right next door.” And he’d feel better, knowing she wasn’t alone at night.

  She shook her head with decision. “I’m staying here. It’s as much home as anywhere else I’ve lived.” As if thinking she’d given away too much, she spun and walked swiftly to the front door, forcing him to follow. “Thanks for coming by, Jake. I appreciate it.”

  He lingered, his hand on the knob. “I’ll see what I can find out. Stay safe, will you?”

  “I’m not worried.” She looked at the door so pointedly tha
t he had to open it.

  Jake stepped outside, taking a quick look around the front. But the joker must have exhausted his energy, or maybe his salt, on the back of the house.

  “Good night, Jake. And thank you.”

  Before he could move, she closed the door, and he heard the sound of the bolt sliding over.

  She was safe. There was no logical reason to be worried about a series of pranks that had caused little damage.

  But he couldn’t help thinking that the situation ran deeper than they’d guessed, and he didn’t like it one bit.

  * * *

  LAINEY MADE AN effort to dismiss thoughts of both Jake and witchcraft from her mind as she stepped off the elevator at the hospital the next day. Maybe not so oddly, Jake was the more stubborn of the two.

  She couldn’t, she absolutely couldn’t, let herself get involved with her great-aunt’s attorney. Besides which, he was the last man in the world who would suit her—a conservative, small-town professional who was as rooted here as the maples along Main Street. If Jake—

  The door to her aunt’s room swung open, and Zeb barreled out. His gaze focused on her.

  “You. You said Rebecca was better. That she was starting to wake up. But she’s not.” He seemed far more upset than she’d have expected. Perhaps she’d been misjudging him.

  “Aunt Rebecca is doing better, really. She’s starting to move and respond to voices. It will just take time. You’ll see.”

  “Time,” he repeated.

  “That’s right.” She tried an encouraging smile. “I’m sure you’ll see the changes soon.”

  “Then why are you thinking to put her in a nursing home?” His graying beard seemed to bristle with antagonism.

  “I’m not.” A conversation with Uncle Zeb always seemed filled with potholes. “But a rehab facility—”

  “Rebecca belongs with family. We will take her.” He said the words as if they were a command from on high. Then he walked away, not waiting for any further input from her.

  Lainey watched him stab at the elevator button. Should she go after him and try to explain?

  Before Lainey could make up her mind to try, the elevator doors had swished open. Zeb disappeared inside, and they closed again.